Inception
by Phoenix2063
Summary: Do you want him?"     Spock felt great anger fill him, overflow him, and terrify him to the point of madness. If the suggestion alone were not enough, he had the images of a life never lived tear into him.
1. Chapter 1

Spock closed his eyes. The sun was already up, rising in a strange, unfamiliar pattern through the drapes. An odd sweet scent followed a soft breeze through the shaggy tent. It reminded Spock of all the races they'd saved from dying planets, the relocation and segregation of species on newly terra-formed systems. Some planets were dual-formed, half of the planet suitable for one species and the other half suitable for another. Much like the dichotomy of deserts and jungle found on Earth. However, not many planets developed like Earth. Most had miniscule differences between poles to equator. The tilt of the Earth, its size and position from the sun made it what it was.

Variable upon variable.

Spock lifted from the flat mattress and stood, stretching a bit. He pulled his robe close and shifted through the small space the Federation allotted him as a home. It reminded him painfully of his quarters aboard the Enterprise in its size and sparse furnishing. He turned half expecting to see the IDIC mosaic and firepot blazing. Hazel eyes and bronze skin tucked away in the corner. Spock blinked back the image. It was illogical to wish for things that were not so. For things that, in this world, did not exist.

Spock finally understood what Kirk meant when he said memories and experiences live on. If we remember them, they are just as alive as the day they happened.

And Spock remembered.

He remembered too much.

But guilt overshadowed memory. How does one atone for killing his own Mother? Killing his whole species? Or a dear friend's father? The sadness, the brokenness, the pure chaos that was James T. Kirk's mind filled him with utter trepidation. Never had he experienced Kirk's mind in such disarray. Even in their first meld, he was collected. It was the thing that drew him to Kirk, the thing that tugged him closer to that mind year after year.

And now if his counterpart were to meld with Kirk, would he have the same sympathy? Or would he just see the pieces and never feel the curiosity, the draw to that exceptional human mind.

It was there, buried beneath layers of sadness. Although he was broken, he also held great strength. Unimaginable strength. So inviting and warm in an achingly sad way. The fluttering ends of Spock's broken bond were pulled taunt with their meld. They held even so. He knew their connection wasn't deep, but Spock's mind clung to him and nestled deep in the empty space.

The transference young Kirk felt was a multitude of things. Guilt, mourning, anger, bittersweet love-lost and shame. As nice as it felt to have his mind reconnect with a Jim Kirk, he knew he had to sever it. It was like being broken all over again. He had to rip the link from his mind. It was forceful and it was rough. And he had a sinking feeling that he may have left a piece behind but the loss was so miniscule it was hard to tell.

Pain overshadowed the organized fields of Spock's mind. He tried to see down into his own psyche, to re-organize, to re-categorize, to re-reference his experiences and feelings into those wonderful logical plains that he daily sowed and cared for with careful meditation. Rain clouds, dark and angry, took up his neural skies. He could not see himself.

It was frightening.

For days he could ignore it. For days he could put aside the maelstrom and torment to commit himself to the Vulcan Council and organize efforts outside of his crumbling mind. It gave him a sort of calm to at least do physically what he could not mentally.

Until _he_ came.

"Surprised?" Headaches were not Vulcan. But Spock sported one now and quickly tried to face away from his tent intruder.

"What do you want?"

"What do I want! What do _you_ want?" The being sat on his dresser. His 4 foot dresser, legs dangling and his mouth upturned in a quick, animated smile.

"I am in no mood for games. Why are you here?"

"It took me a while to find you, you know, it's been what forty years? Thirty-Nine if you include that little jump through time we had together."

"You kidnapped me and took me to the time of my mother's death." 

"You got to say goodbye didn't you?"

"Why do you hold such interest in me, and why now?"

His intruder jumped down from the dresser and slipped into the bed, shifting his shoulders exuberantly as he tried to settle deep into the mattress.

"Ugh, is this Vulcan regulation or Federation bedding? It's horrible! No. This won't do. Humans would never want to-."

"As you are not human, and nor am I, I do not see why it is an issue."

"Ah, that's the thing, the thing you didn't know, the thing you didn't think to think about."

The pause was disgusting.

"Humans, what about them?" Spock implored.

"You know my power, Vulcan. Do you want him?"

Spock felt great anger fill him, overflow him, and terrify him to the point of madness. If the suggestion alone were not enough he had the images of a life never lived tear into him.

"Do not toil there Q, do not even go to that part of me, because if you cannot make do on what you speak, so help me, you will be throttled by my hands until you decide to vacate this time and place."

"We're both visitors here, what's one more?" Q poofed to the other side of the room, creating a notable distance between them.

"He is dead. Captain Picard wrote me the letter; he told me what happened."

"And did he know his katra would return to the Nexus. That your Captain's little journey would end him back in paradise, in bliss?"

"Then he is still in the Nexus?" Spock's interest grew and with it, his chest terrifyingly tight.

"Like I said, do you want him back or not?"

"Why would you offer this to me? What do you have to gain?"

"Answer the question."

"Yes, now answer mine."

"The Nexus is like a playground. Q make up 92% of the illusions created by the minds that get trapped there. Because the Q are there to provide the psycho-physical environment, they have to accurately delve into the desires and wishes of others. Q are first taught to be selfless. It is a child's game, a private school if you will. The bending of time and space are the first things a Q will learn to develop their sense of rightness and wrongness in a universe. There is a natural flow to time. Nero disrupted a lot of what we built. Your red matter took up a big chunk of our lessons. Despite what people think of the Q we literally do nothing but baby-sit the future. We cannot control the flow, but we do regulate it. If things flux to far temporally we try to place them back. Sometimes a flux is too far out of proportion to fix. Your black hole caused problems. And so has your Captain. He's been reluctant of the Nexus ever since he found out that it was pure fantasy and manipulation. He's been using our youngster's minds against us. He thinks of things, really thinks and makes believe that they are his only true wish, only desire, and to pass the Nexus class, our Q must provide the psycho-physical response to his wish, accurately. You would not believe the amount of things he's requested. His lifelong goal, which had never been tested before, was to escape the Nexus. He has a wall of calculations, of theory and hypothecations that could make even the most brilliant scientists blush. We're tired of him messing with our youth; he is disrupting all we hoped to teach with the Nexus. We do not want him there, but we cannot send him back to your time."

Finally, the omnipotent being took a breath.

"Why not?"

"Because there is no Spock in that world. We planned on sending him back until we found out about the little trek through time and space you did after Romulus collapsed."

"There is also a Kirk and Spock in this world, does this not factor into your balance of the universe?"

"It does, however we have a Kirk and Spock belonging to this world, and we have a Spock not. We need a Kirk-not to fulfill the temporal gap.

Why do you think you're mind is not working? Why do you think you are dizzy at all times, disoriented, misplaced?"

"I did not dwell on it."

"Anyway, it's a win-win really." Q approached the hard Starfleet issued mattress and clicked his tongue. The bed extended a foot in each direction and sunk in at the weight of a slumbering humanoid. The mattress appeared much softer than the previous.

As soon as Spock crossed the room to inspect the gift, Q left, vanished more like.

Spock felt his breath grow shallow, almost non-existent as he crept near the edge, watching as the figure shifted deeper into the new pillow and bedding.

Spock felt like steel. Solid and rigid. He could not let the moment overwhelm him. He could not feel what he wanted to feel. If this was not the same man, if something had altered his consciousness, if Q sent him a facsimile of his former Captain, he could not bear it.

Dark curls dusted with grey puffed out near the junction of pillow and blanket. Spock knelt; pulling back the covers to reveal an all too familiar face scrunch up in unawareness and sniffled. He had to know, but he was also aware that touching his mind now could be dangerous.

"Jim." Spock said aloud, curling his palm against the soft weight of Kirk's rounded jaw. The feeling that passed between telepath to psi-null was enough to arouse.

Kirk's eyes fluttered, his breath sharp and his brows sunk to the center of his forehead.

"No…" Kirk's eyes squeezed shut, his entire body twisted, away, far away. His hands clutched the blankets, and he writhed as though in pain.

"Jim!" Spock was frightened.

Was he hurt? Did the Q not account for his body traveling to this time and space? What was it? Why?

Jim whimpered and his teeth scrapped together, gritting an gnawing in extreme displeasure. He kept chanting 'no', 'not real', 'I don't want him'. The last hit Spock with a hard sickening blow. Jim threw the covers over his head. 'Away!' Jim yelled, cried, and sobbed. And lastly he shook. He shook so hard the legs of the bed trembled.

Spock couldn't take the display any longer. He stalked onto the covers and pulled Kirk against him. He fought. He twisted. His fists smashed at Spock's shoulders but did little damage. Spock stopped the next strike, taking both fists clutch in his hands and pressed them down against the bed.

Jim was immobilized. His hips pinned by Vulcan weight, and his arms held high above his head. He stopped fighting, his breathing labored, but his eyes remained shut.

"Jim. Are you in pain? Are you ok?" Spock loosened his hold on Kirk's hands.

"You. You can't be here. I- who knew, who brought you here?" Kirk demanded his voice strained and nearly fell apart.

"Jim. I… no one brought me. You were sent to me. Please…" Kirk flinched when Spock touched his face.

Slowly, hazel peeked out. He squinted, the light now taking its midday poise through the drapes.

"You're old."

Spock nearly smiled and retracted his hold from both hands and hips. Spock sat near him, but pointedly turned away.

"Indeed."

"Where…how do I know this isn't the Nexus. I've gotten old too Spock. My mental control might have slipped. I spent my time there trying not to think of you. Because if I thought of you… if they gave you to me… I would never want to escape. And when I saw you… I thought I'd lost. I still think I've lost."

"Based on what facts?"

"That's the thing. I don't know if my mind could superimpose your age, or this room. I don't have any facts except that you're here… fuck you _are_ here…" Kirk couldn't look directly at him, couldn't even direct his words to him. It was so surreal and painful. He truly did not know if he could allow himself to believe.

Spock forgot all warnings and was drawn to the psychic energy that woke his telepathy in a way that he'd never experienced before. The clouds seemed to clear. But the landscape of his mind was still blurry and disjointed.

"Would you meld with me? Could I show you what has transpired in the past 95 years?"

"Ninety-fi…has- has it really been that long?" Kirk finally locked eyes with Spock. Finally took in the deep lines that filled the elder Vulcan's face. It was him though. His hair had finally turned white with some dark patches of remembered youth just above his pointed ears.

His eyes seemed to be the worst indicator of age. Sunken in, trapped by loose skin and a dull cast. He held no more amusement, no more curiosity, no more of the Science Officer that served with him for the better part of his life.

Kirk shifted on the bed, felt his knees ache as he did so and took a sitting position facing Spock.

Spock reached out; his hands gnarled with age, but still soft, Kirk thought as the pads settled on his face. Spock eased in, slowly, gently. His mind was a soft murmur against Kirk's. Soft and warm.

'I won't break Spock, show me.'

'I am not idling for you; it has… been a long time since I've been inside your mind.'

'What do you think? Has it changed much?'

'No, Jim. But I have.'

'Watch.' Spock flipped back, precisely to the time when Kirk first disappeared. He reigned in his emotion through this part. Through every part. After he believed Kirk to be dead or beyond retrieval he stopped the illogical emotions that tore through him. He halted them and buried them deep within himself.

'Why didn't you just go through the Kolinar. You would have succeeded this time.'

'You once told me that our pain is what makes us who we are. I could not part with the pain of losing you. It felt deserved and it pushed me to a lot of things that I wouldn't have done had you been alive.'

'Yeah, like what?'

'Watch.'

Spock took him through his time with the praetor. The years of smuggling Vulcan artifacts to Romulus, the decades of living under an assumed name until he thought the world was ready for Vulcan/Romulan reunification. He showed Jim the children he taught logic to, the parents that sought him for truths that their council kept hidden about the Vulcan race.

'Did Starfleet know where you went?'

'No. Nor did my father or my mother. I exiled myself completely.'

'Did it work?'

'It would have. Jim. Romulus was destroyed.'

'By who! What…'

'Watch.'

Spock flooded Jim's head with calculations, schematics, electronics, years of theory and planning. Collaboration, reintroduction to Vulcan, his Father, the madness and sadness of Bendii flipped through like a single page but Kirk caught it; read it all with dreaded clarity.

'He died thinking you betrayed Vulcan? Spock… I'm so sorry.' Jim's comfort got lost in a sea of red. Red everything, bubbles of red. Darkness that was tinted red. And like that darkness a sucking feeling of being engulfed in something.

Red matter. Dark matter. Unstable, needs more. More. Just a blood slide, a splotch of energy suctioned within a tube. A ship. A whirling ship. And like an overhead lay-up, it falls deep into the swirling atmosphere of an angry star.

The suction grew, falling, pulling, tugging, ripping. The ship wouldn't last, but the channel the hole created bubbled about the ship, and it sunk deeper and deeper.

A battered, dark voice and the words 'finally' flooded both their minds. Jim watched in horror as Spock was forced to the ground by a tattooed Romulan. He watched through Spock's horrific eyes as Vulcan dissolved into nothing. He felt the bond of Spock's mother, though already severed, throb with an echo of pain. Jim watched as a young man elicited a familiar bout of amusement and adoration. Kirk watched as Spock's hands touched the man's, he felt the ghost of that man's mind. He felt the rush of relief and cool emotion that iced over Spock's aching loss and rebuilt him for an instant. He saw the rebuff. The darkness that came with such overwhelming heat and light. The pain of pulling away from such happiness. He saw the red dripping ends, like tentacles limp back into Spock's mind. They collapsed, sighed and curled up in awaiting despair.

He saw Spock meeting himself and realized then that the young man had been him.

He saw Spock being shuttled from Starfleet to New Vulcan- an ambassador, he claimed. Selek he identified as.

He saw Q prance about the room snuggling into Spock's bed and ranting. The words all meshed in the meld but the meaning was clear. It was about him. And poof. He appeared.

He felt Spock trying to tug away from the meld, the image distorted and soon all he could sense was Spock's presence and warmth that he'd never experienced before.

Spock withdrew his mind, but not his hand. It settled on Kirk's cheek, Spock's thumb pressing lightly against his skin.

Jim reached up and took Spock's hand. The gesture, their position much like Spock's recovery from V'ger.

"I forgive you."

Spock shifted his head. Almost a shake but not quite.

"All this time, Jim. You were alive. I should have known."

"You couldn't…"

"Jim." Spock stopped all conversation. Anything Kirk planned on saying, anything that filled his mind dropped instantly at his name. At that tone.

Kirk's hand tightened. Kirk searched Spock's face, explored the differences with his eyes. Undid their hands and ran his fingers over Spock's cheek.

"How old are you anyway?"

"I am one hundred fifty-eight standard years."

"That's good."

"Good, Jim?"

"I am sixty-one. At least with the time displacement. I didn't age in the Nexus. I was out of phase for ninety-five years. You know the life span of humans. We match now. Hardly a coincidence don't you think?"

"I suppose I should be grateful then."

"It's harder for you than it is for me. You've had to deal with it. I could hardly bear the short time you were dead on Genesis before we revived you. I cannot imagine ninety-five years of that feeling. I was in limbo, time was nothing."

"You are correct. Our meld only showed you the surface of those emotions. I am not ready to face what I locked away. You cause in me a much volatile war between logic and emotion. I will share them with you someday, when I am ready."

"Of course." Kirk folded his hands in his lap. They sat close, basking in mere presence and the re-awareness of minds.

"How do you feel?"

"I think I'm alright, aside from a bit of stiffness. I don't know how much my body actually moved in the Nexus, or if it was all imposed activity."

"Come, stand." Spock stood and held out his hand. Kirk slowly reached out, gripped hard locked eyes with Spock.

"Ready?"

Kirk nodded.

Slowly Kirk's legs straightened, but his hand pushed down with a weak force. Gravity and Spock's upward pull seemed to be the brunt of the motion.

"Jim. Are you-"

"Just…I don't know." Spock curved his left arm behind Jim's waist and began to ease his support.

A wave of panic rippled through their hands and Spock immediately returned his strength.

"I'm going to set you down now; I do not think you are capable of supporting your own weight at this time. It would be beneficial if you rested." Spock began lowering his hand, guiding Jim to sit upon the bed. But Jim didn't respond accordingly. He tried, despite his obvious atrophy. The only thing that kept him upright was the proper alignment of bone and gravity, should his center of balance…

…Spock shifted his left arm and braced himself as Jim collapsed. He showed no sign of predicted frustration.

Only a small smile.

"I knew you'd catch me." Spock swooped down to hook his legs and placed them on the bed as well.

"I want you to see a healer." Spock watched as Jim's face scrunched.

"Any healer would be able to tell I'm not from this time from the temporal flux in my DNA."

"Then we will seek a healer that knows of the time displacement."

"What would a healer know of human physiology? It took Bones nearly three accidents to figure out how to properly treat you when you were injured."

"And that is precisely why I am taking you to see the good Doctor."

"Wait, Bones?"

"I believe I said that."

"Young Bones then? Is he… Did he make CMO in this timeline too?"

"Indeed, in fact, he made CMO six years before our Leonard ever did."

"Six? So .. I'm what 24? 25? In this world? They didn't give her to me until I was 31! How the hell did this Jim Kirk swipe her from Pike that easily? This is the mirror universe isn't it? I bet he killed him."

Spock felt his eyes glow and a bubble of emotion flutter through him. It was the first laugh he'd felt in over a decade. But on the tails of happiness came a shadow and ghost images of Romulan children. Specifically the year they banned together and gave Spock a present to celebrate his birthday on a day of their choosing. He firmly told them, 'Celebrating birthdays is a human custom, do not confuse it with Vulcan tradition.' To which they replied, 'you are half-human. You have accepted us fully; let us accept you in the same capacity.' It was also the first birthday he acknowledged after Jim was pronounced dead. He clutched the locket firmly in his hand that night and no amount of meditation ever brought him to complete peace.

They were dead now, those children, in his world. And would now probably live in prejudice and fear that was not present in the other. Once his work was done on New Vulcan, he planned on picking up where he left off. He almost felt needed more than ever in this new world where unjust hostilities towards Romulans were sure to arise. But now, with Jim back?

Jim closed his eyes and sighed.

"Rest. I have a meeting with Sarek this afternoon. I will be back before dusk." Jim nodded as he nuzzled into the covers.

"Wait. Isn't that weird? You're older than your father! Does he know?"

Spock knew he wouldn't sleep quietly and smiled to himself.

"Yes and yes. The only people who know of my true existence are the Vulcan High Council, the Priority Admirals at Starfleet, our respective counterparts, Montgomery Scott and Leonard H. McCoy."

"Seems like a big fan-base to me."

"We will talk more at a later time. Rest Jim." Spock caught his hand in Jim's hair, feeling the coarser texture and combed through the curls with fondness.

Jim hummed, barely registering the hand that slipped from his hair and the sound of the tent flap shutting behind his fleeing friend.

On some unknown date, on some unknown planet, in some unknown time and universe, James T. Kirk fell into the best sleep of life.


	2. Chapter 2

Spock entered the council room and took his usual seat on the left side of Sarek's chair and adjacent from T'Pau.

Four other Vulcan's from the few surviving influential families filled in around the table. One was young, the daughter of Skonn, and the only survivor from her family. She focused on agriculture and developing new, yet similar produce to Old Vulcan.

The elder on her right was head of Science and Application. Further clockwise the table sat the head of Medicine and beyond that the head of Structural Integration. A city planner, if you will. Each of the heads had hundreds of specialists working with them.

And all factions worked together.

Agriculture would often steal nutritionists from Medical; get advice from Science about gene splicing; pull architects from SI to plan the positioning of fields so they used optimum agricultural land/residential ratio. From the top concerns bred hundreds of solutions. So meetings such as these occurred each week for updates on progress and implementation of new projects.

New Vulcan was quickly being established.

The problem they faced now was education.

The brilliant scientists, teachers, educators that resided in the schools throughout Vulcan were primarily destroyed. Teachers from Vulcan rarely traveled off-world. There were occasional teaching vessels that deployed every so often, but most of those vessels were refuge for the students and the single educator among them.

Subsequently, every Vulcan had a specialty assigned to them based on their previous coursework and their excellence within that coursework. This is why every Vulcan now carried a communiqué with a channel tied directly to the council. Every citizen had to register with a databank and when a problem arose that needed a solution, a program would automatically choose a handful of Vulcan's to participate. There were a high diversity of skills among the Vulcan people, but out of all the population only 2.9 percent were educators.

For now they relied on the old teaching programs pulled from the learning bowls.

Why hadn't Spock thought of it before? With his thoughts sashaying between the council's proposals and Jim he discovered a startling solution. It would be difficult but possibly beneficial.

Spock waited patiently for the topic of education to rise as it did at the end of all of their meetings. He then waited again as the discussion systematically circled the table. The council's attention shifted to him.

"I understand this may be an outlandish suggestion, council members, but why do we not seek assistance from out-world educators? Surely Earth has retained their best and could be of some assistance. We had programs in the past that allowed out-world teachers to reside on Vulcan for their internships, may we not contact them and invite them to our new planet."

T'Pau's voice angled toward him.

"Out-world knowledge serves out-world ideas. Surak would be lost. Should we lose our culture to a people enslaved by their emotion? We must train ourselves. Many of our youth have perished, and there are few left to educate. Our timetable is acceptable. We have a register of 1034 females due this year for repopulation. And the programs in place will be established in 2-cycles time. As will our schools be rebuilt."

"Then let me bid to you that if our systems are not functioning to standard within our timetable that we may seek assistance."

"The thought will not be lost, and may be reconsidered. But I do not think it is necessary at this time."

Sarek agreed, and the issue passed. Spock was about to bow out when his father caught his arm.

"You were unusually silent."

"There are matters pre-occupying my thoughts, forgive me."

"Do you wish to speak of these matters? You have always given us direction, and dare I say hope. I do not wish to lose your influence over 'matters'."

Spock approached the empty council table and reclaimed his seat. Sarek stepped closer and squared with Spock, but chose not to sit.

"Another time anomaly has occurred, though it is in no way connected with the ripples from the vortex. A being that revealed itself in my time approached me today and brought a member from the crew I served with, that your son now serves with, back to me."

"Another Prime has entered this universe?"

"Yes. He was…is most dear to me. It was shocking to see him again. I do not know what to do now that he is back."

Sarek drew his thoughts together and could not help but pick out the pieces of emotion in Spock.

"You speak of him as I spoke of Amanda. Is this a relationship my son will also encounter?"

"If the transcendence of t'hy'la is true, then yes, I believe your son will also develop this connection. It is unclear the depths that they will receive it. You know the levels and though they will be strongly felt, it is uncertain whether they will act on them."

"T'hy'la. Are you certain? And did you… act on them?"

"No. And it wasn't until he disappeared did I discover that we were bonded."

"And now?"

"I do not know."

"May I ask? Who is my son's T'hy'la? Out of concern of his betrothed's death, it may be beneficial to know."

Spock bowed his head slightly in reverence of the name and out of habit.

"James T. Kirk."

"I see. You are only half Vulcan, are you sure what you felt was not a human friendship?"

"To insult the validity of T'hy'la? I know what we were and pardon me if I take great offense, please do not question this. Look into my mind, see for yourself the bond we shared."

Sarek stared at him. Contemplated and took a seat.

"If only you share the bond, and nothing else, I do not want future events shown in comprehendible detail."

"I will protect your knowledge of that timeline, I can show you the bond itself, what happened when I believed him dead, what happened when I met him again, and what happened when he truly returned."

Sarek nodded.

Spock swallowed and squished his eyebrows together to seek the bond. It was dark there and it was a place he tried not to go for the majority of his life. It was painful and beautiful.

Spock stripped the memories of all contexts and reorganized them by his emotional and mental reactions. He moved the memories to a part of his mind and sorted through them.

Spock opened his eyes and tilted his head forward. Sarek's hands searched his face, fingers moving, feeling out his neural pathways. Finally they settled, and Spock could not help the sadness that seeped from the knowledge that in this time, this was the only time he'd ever done this with a Spock.

"Spock." That reverberant voice said, shuddering the structure of Spock's mind. A second or two and Spock was refocused and led his father to the space he allotted.

'Watch.'

Sarek found himself on another Enterprise, but all he could see was a man. Bright gold and hazel eyes to match. He saw their first meld and psionic energy that flooded between them. He saw little by little the link that formed between them. He saw it torn apart, and put back together. And in the end, pure unadulterated joy. Sarek jerked away when the memories ended in darkness.

"The bond is Vulcan." He confirmed. "This is what my son finds?"

"It is a lifetime of understanding and love. As I survived though the mercy of others, I dearly hope my counterpart finds it within the bounds of this relationship. I never had the courage to tell him or seek him for my 'Time' it was difficult to feel the pull of a bond and not be able to complete it."

"And now?" 

"I do not know."


	3. Chapter 3

Spock took a long walk through the encampment. He offered polite nods and spoke briefly among the Vulcan people. Their were replicator stations and sonic facilities set up in every group. It sustained them and slowly the tents were vanishing as permanent homes were built. Those with larger families were relocated first. For a old man such as Spock, he estimated another six weeks before a home opened for him.

He put in his request. Specified the square feet, similar to his home on Vulcan minus the extra bedrooms for his parents and the spare Amanda insisted on. Should he add a bedroom? It would stack another two weeks on to his completion date. But Jim would have his own space. If Jim wished to stay.

If.

Spock sought an aide from SI and directed him to a station. The SI punched in an authorization code and brought up the rebuild plans.

Spock decided he wouldn't let him leave and put in for the extra space. They exchanged a pleasant parting and Spock continued to his temporary lodging.

The light was golden and peaked through the drapes, speckling Jim's face with bright stripes. Spock drew the cloth together and smoothed the seam of the door.

Spock sat for awhile at the edge of the bed, his arm braced on the other side of Jim's legs and watched him sleep.

A soft buzz at his hip stirred the elder Vulcan and he quickly silenced it. It was an official update of his housing request and beneath it a more personal message sent out from the Enterprise.

'Two days, my old friend, two days.'

Sent by James T. Kirk.

Spock tried to imagine their interaction. If there were a universe ending paradox, Spock was convinced this would be it.

Slowly the light in the room began to fade and Spock began his nightly ritual.

He lit six candles.

One represented his Mother, one his Father, one for Vulcan, one for Earth, one for McCoy of his universe-the sharer of his Katra, and the last for Jim Kirk. The last was centered.

Spock concentrated on the flame of his mother and told it secrets, some new, some old. His gaze shifted to the glow of his father, and though he were alive here, he mourned for their broken relationship and his subsequent loss in madness.

He looked to the red angry glow of Vulcan and reached out to its heat. Letting the warmth of that flame engulfed him in thought. He silently hoped that where Vulcan still stood, that the planet flourished as great as its loss in this time. His mind eased into thoughts of Earth. Memories of his last visit, both in this time and in the other came to him. He pushed them away as he tried to dissolve into present thought and look no more into the past.

But it was impossible as the next flame brought a flickering, stubborn flame that danced a thrived and echoed deep in Spock's mind. McCoy's voice was resonating, indiscernible, but filled him no less. He took comfort in what was left of his friend.

And lastly, the light the seemed to shadow the others took on a luminance that had always been dim.

Jim.

Spock tried to look at the light, but his eyes cast behind it. He could not focus. Spock took a breath and tried again, starting from the base of the scented candle to its wick and finally at the glow on the tip. No exact thought or feeling took him. Nothing he could categorize. Nothing he could reference or bring any sort of peace to. This flame was thriving and full. And completely uncontainable. What could he say about this light? It was too close to him, too much a part of him to see it clearly.

Spock decided for the first time, he didn't want to try.

But he still couldn't tear his eyes from it.

Jim.

His mother was his mother. His father, his father. Vulcan was half home as was Earth. McCoy, a dear friend and experienced his Katra. All these were definable. Jim. He was friend. He was brother. He was bondmate. He was Captain. He was all things and more. He could be lover, Spock knew. As sure as he loved, he was loved. Spiritually, mentally, they were T'hy'la. Their bond had been resealed but not complete. Jim! Would you?

Slowly wax filled to the wick's neck, drowning the light into darkness.

Spock rose and shook himself mentally. He'd spent a longer amount of time in meditation than he expected. Dusk fell into mid-night. The air became cooler, frigid almost. Spock was admitted a small thermal pad that was rolled into a corner. He rarely minded the cold anymore. But Jim stirred, Spock noticed once his eyes adjusted to the small flickers of light still left in the room. Spock unfurled the pad and stood near the bed. He lifted Jim at his shoulders, an inch or two from the bed and slid the pad beneath him. He waved the pad down to his hips, scooting the material to further insolate his body. Jim groaned and shifted.

Spock's hands snuck into the coarse curls and threaded his hand rhythmically for a moment too long. Jim woke. His face nuzzling in the direction of absent warmth. Spock watched him come to. Watched his eyes blink and the darkness flood his senses.

"Spock?" His voice tested.

"I am here, Jim." Spock pulled up a chair and settled near the bed.

He seemed to sigh. Relief, Spock recognized as he felt it through the small distance between them.

"I seem to have hogged the bed, do you wish to sleep? I would not mind you beside me." Jim spoke, his voice oddly formal minus the reference to a member of the Terran Suidae family.

"I will join you. One moment." Spock retired is meditation robe, and found something thinner and tighter to his body. For a moment though he stood naked in the dark wanting nothing more than to absorb the heat from Jim's body and fall asleep against the dear human. Spock secured the fabric around his hips but did not dress his chest. The heating pad was always too warm despite the cool air, and his body had redesigned itself to the cold and he no longer yearned for warmth. But when he slipped in beside Jim, he could feel the resonance from the pad, and the ever glowing heat from Jim's skin. He was drawn to it.

"Jim." Spock whispered.

"Come here." Jim responded. His body still angled away but curved perfectly to fit Spock's legs and parallel their chests.

Spock complied. His arm draped over the thicker waist and his face nestled near the back of Jim's neck. He breathed. Really breathed. And for the first time no longer felt like a time-lost ghost. He felt alive.


	4. Chapter 4

Spock felt the sweet musk of human skin pressed against his nose. Jim's neck curled towards him and their arms had switch places during the night. Spock felt warm. Too warm. Too comfortable. Too much.

He felt that friendly affection flood him and he realized he did not wish to get up. Nor here in this universe did he have to. He was not a true Ambassador. Just as Jim was not a true Admiral.

Their ranks, stripped by time.

The responsibilities of their reputation were also null. There were no faces to put on; none but their own, and Spock knew Jim would discover something new between them in due time.

And Spock was as grateful as he was terrified. Without duty. Without the barrier of Starfleet, their relationship would be redefined. No longer First Officer and Captain. No longer Admiral and Ambassador. No more missions. No more reports.

The comforting hum of Jim's mind purred through touch, and Spock briefly wondered how he managed without this feeling for so long. But then again, it had been a very long time since they served together.

Could they? Could Spock have completed his paperwork, handed Jim a report, and then followed him to bed?

The image was pleasant. But distorted. He could not see this in their past. And stubbornness made him wait until after their respective promotions. There was a long period of stalled friendship that Spock regretted. The only thing he specifically regretted. Even if he'd never verbally or physically claimed Jim as T'hy'la, or bondmate, he could have at least kept their friendship alive.

He became too Vulcan, and clouded the human need for companionship with rigid Vulcan philosophy. He had fifteen years to reconnect. To be what he saw after V'ger. And even then, he didn't take the chance. He didn't try hard enough. He didn't even take that last lunch with the Admiral before he boarded Enterprise-B. And watched helplessly from a shuttle craft as they broadcast the death of the great Admiral James T. Kirk.

The tear of their bond was deep. It carved him from the inside out. Spock had never experienced such pain. Even the telepathic loss of all of Vulcan could not compare to the mental gutting he received when Jim entered the Nexus.

He should have known.

The pain never completely severed, and Spock attributed it to Human grief. To depression. To self loathing. He never allowed himself to believe that their bond had just been stretched through unimaginable dimensions. And Spock was never one to hang onto hope void of logic. Especially when it was so easy to be consumed by that pain.

Pain that led him to Romulus.

Without Jim, he knew no bounds. Became reckless. Took diplomatic jobs with a high correlation to danger. He spoke to warring nations, pirates, rebels. And lastly landed himself with an alias and underground revolution for unification.

But he knew what it truly was.

Distraction.

And ironically that cowboy diplomacy he tried to incorporate led him to the very man he sought to embody.

Somehow, he and Jim remained together. And not more than a day into their reunion, Spock felt complete, whole as he'd never felt before.

This time he couldn't take for granted the friendship they had. Without the mask of duty, the feelings that kept him by this man were laid bare. For a long while, that mask was comforting.

As First Officer, he could not always be friend, and the expectation to be was not as high. Spock knew the possibility of more could not be while they were comrades. And he was content to wait.

Spock realized, just as he could not split his human from his Vulcan, he could not split business from the personal. He had to be one or the other. And now with Vulcan gone, literally, and Starfleet no longer a daunting pull, he finally has a choice. To embrace his Human. To be personal.

Spock returned his head to the curve of Jim's neck and pressed his nose to his skin and allowed himself to breath deeply, selfishly, just to feel. That hum picked up into a delightful buzz. If Jim could feel this... And the longer Spock laid half curled around Jim's body, the more he wanted to press against it. Eventually, Spock pulled back and away. The heat and electricity was too much and he was too awake to try to sleep again.

Jim never woke.

But when he did, Spock was already up, busying himself in the opposite corner of the tent.

Jim stretched as much as his muscles could respond and settled into the warmth radiating beneath him.

"When did you put this here?"

Jim's voice was another sweet revelation.

Spock turned, cup in hand and sat on the edge of the bed.

"You woke when I placed it Jim, you must have been very tired." Spock waited as Jim tried to sit upright, and failed.

'He's regressing.' Spock thought. He attributed Jim's strength to adrenaline from escaping the nexus. His acceptance of this world as reality may have lessened his mental capacity to overcome his physical state.

"My whole body is tired." Jim looked frustrated for a second and gave him pleading golden eyes.

Spock set the cup on the nightstand and placed his hands on Jim's lower back. Jim could sit up, with some help from Spock and the bed's slotted backboard, an addition Q apparently deemed necessary.

"Here." Spock pushed the ceramic cup into Jim's hands and waited as his muscles finally clenched around the handle.

'The atrophy must be more advanced than I thought.' Spock mused as Jim attempted to lift the cup to his lips. When his hand just hovered at chest level, Spock took the cup from him and brought it to his lips.

"Mm. Where did you get coffee?"

"There are several Starfleet officers stationed on New Vulcan to help with the rebuilding efforts. I surmised they would have a supply."

"You stole coffee for me?" Jim looked pleased and nodded his head down for another sip.

His eyes closed and Spock was filled with warmth.

No, he did not steal the coffee. Though he might have asked around for a darker roast, as per Jim's preference. It was no trouble.

But if Jim wished to infer his actions from the half smirk Spock responded with, that was his prerogative.

An ache passed through Spock's body. He missed this. Sorely.

If Q were to take him now... Spock couldn't let that thought culture. He mind clamped down on it immediately. He would enjoy however long he had with Jim. He must.

The atrophy was troubling. And though Jim seemed to be regaining mental strength, he was eager to have him at full capacity.

Perhaps...

An idea flashed through Spock's mind, and with it an image of himself lying on a table from long ago.

"Jim. I will send for advice, but I believe I may be able to assist with your motor functions. When McCoy reassembled my neurons when my brain was reunited with my body...'for the first time...' (Jim interrupted) I believe I remember the correct paths. If we meld I may be able to see if your mind is directing your body correctly. If it is, then I will leave the medical to Dr. McCoy Jr."

Jim snorted.

"What else would you have me call him, Bones 2?"

Jim laughed fully this time. Slightly yellowing teeth and crows feet appeared. It was a delightful display.

"It's weird to hear you say 'Bones'. We could try. When?"

"This afternoon, if you're feeling up to it."

"Oh, I'll be fine, I feel like I've been sleeping for a very long time."

"Do you need anything else?"

"Yes, I need to urinate actually." Jim made a motion like he was going to swing his legs over the bed and caught himself before the attempt.

"Here, let me assist you." Spock was at his side immediately with one hand under his arm and the other gently at his hip.

Jim swayed, grunted and tried desperately to throw his foot forward. His muscles shut down. His legs felt like mush and his bones felt like they were grinding together.

"Are you in pain?"

"No." Jim strained again, grunted and let out a labored breath.

"It is fortunate that your lungs and heart are working. It seems your atrophy has only affected your extremities."

"I feel numb and useless. Damnit Spock, I'm finally back with you and I can't..."

"Can't what, Jim?"

"I..." A strange expression floated over Jim's face and his cheeks flushed a dark pink for a few seconds. His eyes were watery and he looked deeply disturbed.

"My muscles... I couldn't..." Jim started and looked down.

Spock followed his eyes the dark stain spreading through the fabric of his pants.

"Your bladder emptied itself?" Spock looked concerned.

"I'm sorry."

"It is no matter. The Doctor will be here in 34 hours. I can give word to the Enterprise and see if they can expedite their travel. "

Jim nodded and allowed Spock to led him back into the bedroom. Spock set him in a chair and pulled out an extra pair of pants.

Jim let Spock lift his hips and strip his lower half. Spock disposed of the soiled pair and knelt. He took Jim's foot and began rolling the pant leg up one limb, then the other. Jim seemed to shake the stare he set on the floor and smiled weakly.

"I never thought I'd be reaching retirement home status so soon." Spock placed his hand over Jim's.

"I admit I am illogically pleased to do this for you."

"You're crazy."

"Perhaps. But I imagine that if we had lived out our lives in our respective timeline that I would always come to your aide. I knew you would eventually grow old. And I selfishly wanted to be your caregiver until your death."

Spock pulled a chair in front of Jim and sat down.

"That's both morbid and sweet of you Spock. I guess I never gave it much thought. I never wanted to see myself as old. I couldn't look that far ahead, it scared me to be honest, what I would do without command or rank."

"And yet here, we have neither."

"I suppose you're right."

"And how do you feel? Without the things that defined you." Spock implored.

"I am not without them all, Spock. I have you. I always thought you were a damn good definition of me. Hell, perhaps my only good descriptor. I was very proud to be called your friend." Jim couldn't seem to keep eye contact and would look away. He sighed partially and stared somewhere unseeing.

Spock replaced his hand, deliberately, and slowly over Jim's.

"I am equally grateful to have a friend like you, Jim. Although... perhaps you should stay in bed until the Enterprise arrives."

At Jim's sour look Spock tilted his head in thought.

"Or, we of course could keep ourselves occupied. I have a chess board. It is only two-dimensional, but I believe it will serve its purpose."

"I like the sound of that Mr. Spock."

The average chess match between the two lasted approximately 3.4 hours.

Three games would be sufficient before Jim had to rest again, and if Spock could hasten the Enterprise's travel, the crew should arrive in the morning. If the neural interface Spock planned on creating between their minds worked, Jim should be on his way to physical recovery. By the end of the week Spock planned to tell Jim that they were bonded. Or at least had been. And the siren pull of that bond cries out even now.

'Complete me'. It said. Whispering in the backgrounds of Spock's mind. It was a very annoying voice, persistent and telling. But it yearned and ached and it created much sadness in its host.

Spock set the last piece before he knew it and claimed black for their starting gambit. Jim's arm reached across the board and gingerly lifted a piece and more so dropped it than anything else into place. Their game lasted 1.8 hrs. In complete silence.

The average time it took Jim to move a piece elongated between moves. He started at 1.4 minutes and went to nearly 6.7 minutes to complete a move. Spock won in 27 moves. Jim blinked, and then yawned.

"Perhaps I have taken advantage of your weakened state." Jim's eyes narrowed and he worked on resetting his side of the board. Pleased with himself that his arms and fingers were still up to the task.

"I'll show you weakened." Jim promised, moving his piece quickly and efficiently. Their second game took longer. 2.6 hours passed and Jim showed an interesting mixture of awe and surprise as he tipped his king. His game had improved, but Spock was never one to let him win.

"Thank you, Spock." Jim said, smiling with everything at his disposal. Spock looked at that smile. Memorized it. Caressed it with his eyes and drank it in. It was a moment that floated by on some other timeframe, because Spock could not count how many seconds passed, even with his superior reckoning skills.

And when the moment was over Spock felt the need to speak.

"I'm glad you're here, Jim. I had resigned myself to a life without you, but it was never a life I would have chosen for myself. I missed you greatly, old friend." Spock reached across the chess board and firmly took Jim's hand.

In the wake of Jim's smile, he responded by a tight nod and a tight grip.

They sat there, hands touching, eyes staring, and when the intensity became too much they looked away and parted.

"I'm sorry." Jim said at last.

"Do not be. Come, you should rest. The Enterprise should arrive in twelve hours."

"Twelve? I thought they were further out than that."

"I requested their expedited presence. Your atrophy troubles me and if I cannot figure it out, I want McCoy to be there to examine you."

"Do you want to try that mind-link thing. I'm not tired yet." Jim offered, stretching mildly in his chair.

Spock stood.

"We may attempt it, but if I cannot see a clear path between your mind and body I will want the Doctor's opinion before proceeding."

"Fair enough. So how do we do this?"

"First I want you to be in bed." Jim sported a quick pout and used labored effort to push back his chair.

Spock rounded to his back and pulled upward on his elbows. Jim lifted, feeling very much like an elderly gentleman and began making old man noises.

"Jim." Spock admonished and led him to the bed. Jim sank down and twisted his body so he could fall comfortably upon the mattress.

Spock rounded to the other side and sat on his knees next to Jim's side. He waited a few minutes, with his eyes closed, centering his mind and directed all his energy to the psi points of his hands.

Jim watched him, fascinated every time Spock prepared himself for a meld.

Spock's fingers brushed near Jim's nose, another at his hairline and the other two settled firmly near his jaw.

The points were warm like melted plastic or candlewax. That warmth bled through the skin, deep until it was penetrating the bone, and beyond that it became a psychic wave of energy.

Spock was being specific.

It felt very much like the time he saved them from the imaginary bullets of the OK Coral. It was a meld with a purpose, one, Jim realized hadn't happened in a long while.

Spock's mind settled in his, locked together and hummed with a wonderful buzz.

'Jim.' The voice said.

Jim was able to reach that voice, it had always been a beacon for where Jim was suppose to concentrate and partipate in a meld. He could feel the psychic presence and location like a pin on a map.

'An interesting analogy.' Spock answered unexpectedly.

'Move your arm.'

It was very much a command. And Jim immediately put away his curious thoughts and concentrated on the task at hand.

Jim put all his mental energy into lifting his arm, knowing full well that in reality his arm would stay limp at his side. The neural paths burned like city lights and Spock traced them to the movement Jim was attempting. To continue with Jim's mental picture, Spock found the lights bunching very much like a traffic jam. There were too many one ways, and no bypass to the function Jim wished to achieve. Small flickers however pulsed through. Dim fireflies of energy fluttered though Jim's neural net and showed Spock the correct path to Jim's motor function.

'Try harder.' Spock asked. Watching for the little flickers. The mind was like a thunderstorm. Pulses of energy that took logical paths according to different pressures within those paths. And Jim was the Rainman. Directing, calculating without conscious thought. But now Jim had to concentrate, because the storms were out of control. They danced to the left, to the right. Some energy went to places not directed by its host. Jim was lucky he wasn't seizing. The energy for all its unpredictability, was surprisingly contained. It didn't venture to any of the involuntary systems. Jim's heart and lungs and blood flow all seemed to carry on per normal.

Spock probed deeper, taking his bird eye view to a smaller scale. He watched for a long moment. Memorized how Jim's mind worked. Watched the light direct itself in the task of moving Jim's arm, and being stalled all at the same spot. Spock wasn't sure if this was a general roadblock in Jim's mind or if he'd have to release every function one by one. First Jim's arms, next his legs, further on until Jim was completely mobile.

'Harder Jim.' Spock asked.

A flare of light blinded Spock for a second, as Jim gave all he could into moving his arm. Lights pushed at the road block, as others found a path around it.

Spock couldn't do a thing. He realized as he mentally tried to sync with Jim's neural power. If he removed the block, it might over stimulate other senses and put his system on overload. If he didn't Jim would have limited mobility. Spock had only one real choice that he was comfortable with. He had to pull out of the meld, and wait for Dr. McCoy. Otherwise if he rerouted the energy block Jim might have to relearn all of his motor functions individually before he could fully use his arms or his legs without assistance.

Spock whispered his intent to pull back and waited for the neural storm of Jim's mind to subside. Spock released his mind from Jim's and blinked to regain his sense of physical reality.

Jim wasn't blinking. Spock realized as he stared at his friend.

"_Jim_." Spock said softly.

Nothing.

"Jim." Spock said firmly.

Nothing.


End file.
